


Just a Crush (Hanahaki Disease AU)

by Angel_Wolf_with_Red_Wings



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But he messes up, But it's okay, Case Fic, Emily is a good friend, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Hanahaki Disease, Murder, Serial Killers, Spencer Reid is adorable, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 20:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19185157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_Wolf_with_Red_Wings/pseuds/Angel_Wolf_with_Red_Wings
Summary: A new case comes to the BAU, one that no one can really figure out. Couples are turning up dead, with no connections between them. The team is stressed, and in all of that mess, you come to realize that you may have feelings for a certain young doctor. But it is just a crush…right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In this story, the disease can develop very quickly for the sake of time and plot. Also, my knowledge of behavioral analysis is limited to this show and my Forensic class, so there may be holes and incorrect analysis.

It could never happen to you. It could happen to anyone else, but not you. There’s no way, no way! You’d never be dumb enough to fall for such a simple, trivial emotion like love….

…right?

—

You rest your chin on your palm, eyes gazing across the room. ‘At whom?’ You may ask. Spencer Reid, the young, absolutely brilliant doctor on your team, of course. He is bouncing between desks, wishing people a good morning with that small genuine smile of his. His energy is without bounds, even this early in the morning.

With a soft sigh, you tear your eyes away to focus on the task at hand. Hotch will have your head if you aren’t prepared for the morning debriefing on the latest unsub. It was your job to begin the profile, so he’ll be expecting you to have the files ready. The unsub, you believed him to be a man, likely between the ages of 21 to 30, had already killed six people within the past six weeks. The police from the area just recently contacted the BAU to ask for assistance. J.J. got the call last night, after everyone went home, and you took the opportunity to prepare the case on your own, with Hotch’s okay of course.

You shuffle your papers together, tuck them against your chest, and dash off to the meeting room. Emily is already there, sipping from a coffee cup. She sends you a warm yet tired smile which you return as you take a seat next to her.

“How was your weekend?” You ask her softly, hoping to pass the time until the rest of the team joins you.

“Busy, but good.”

You both chatter for a bit and the others eventually begin to trickle in. Hotch is last and he shuts the door behind him. The room goes quiet as he pulls a chair back and sits with his fingers stapled in front of him.

“So, (y/n), what have you learned about the latest unsub?” He prompts, bringing all the attention to you..

You cough nervously, flickering your eyes around the room (they don’t linger on Spencer, definitely not) before you begin, “Well, I’ve come to the conclusion that our unsub is a man in his mid to late twenties. In each instance, there have been two victims, one male and one female, assumably partners. The locations are all remote.” You flip through the various images that were sent to you, each image more gruesome than the last. “The attacks are becoming increasingly violent based on these pictures, and there is less time between each set of victims. He’s escalating quickly. It’s likely we only have a few days until he attempts to attack again.”

You go on to explain the general matching aspects of the crime scenes. Each time, the victims are found in a remote area, the most recent being an abandoned greenery. The victims are always restrained in a small room, facing each other from opposite sides of the room. The woman is gruesomely mutilated and the man’s throat is slit. You have collected all of this based on the pictures of course, which are not all together that detailed.

“It is hard to tell, but based on these, the injuries inflicted on the women are nonlethal, but definitely would have caused a lot of pain. The authorities in the area said they would give us the autopsy reports once we arrive, which hopefully confirm this.”

“So wait, he tortures the girls ruthlessly and then kills the guys in one of the quickest ways possible? Why?” Morgan jumps in.

“It could be that he has struggled with women in the past. That would be why most of the aggression is inflicted on the women. Constant rejection and humiliation could have caused him to act out in this manner.”

You cannot help but stare at Spencer as the words tumble from his mouth. It’s almost like he doesn’t even have to think about what he says. It took you a few minutes of analysis to come to that conclusion, but the knowledge just spills out of him, like it’s as familiar as breathing to him. The only reason you snap out of your trance is because Emily elbows your ribs sharply. You flinch and spin in your chair, intending to glare at her, but then notice that she is glancing rapidly between you and Hotch, who is staring at you with a raised eyebrow. Snap, you missed something.

“Sorry, sorry sir,” you apologize quickly, stumbling over your words, “What did you say?”

“I said you did a good job, (l/n),” Hotch repeats with an amused lilt in his voice, causing heat to rush to your face in embarrassment and joy over the praise. That’s rare. “I think we’ve covered all that we need to. We’ll be meeting at the jet in thirty minutes, everyone be ready. It’s been a few days since the latest murder, so the scene may be disrupted.” He wraps up the debriefing nice and neat, then takes his leave.

You gather your things once again and follow the others as they leave the meeting room. You face is still burning, but now it’s because you realize that Emily caught you staring at Spencer like a dumb teenager. It’s not your fault really, anyone would given the opportunity, but it’s still embarrassing.

Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest when Spencer slides up beside you with that smile on his face. If possible, your face turns an even darker shade of red. Hopefully he doesn’t notice.

“That was incredible, (y/n). Didn’t we get those files yesterday? Did you work on them all night?” He asks, looking down at you with those warm honey eyes appraisingly.

You brush some hair behind your ear and nod, tucking your papers even closer to your body.

“Yah, I didn’t really have much else to do, so I figured I’d get as much done as I could,” You murmur, biting your lip to suppress a grin.

Spencer’s smile widens and he looks as though he’s about to say more but is interrupted when J.J. calls his name from across the room. He casts you an apologetic look before darting off towards her. Your previous smile fades as you watch them begin to chatter happily.

A fleeting itch burns in your throat as you flop down at your station. You clear it with a small cough and dump the papers onto your desk.

Pushing away the negative emotions that clouded your mind, you begin to put everything you’ll need for the investigation into your bag. Since you have the most knowledge on the case, the team will probably expect you to take the lead at the scene. Hopefully all goes well.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go to the newest crime scene to figure out just what you’re dealing with. It all seems to land you in a dead end though. All you’re left with is a loose profile and a cough that is seriously starting to get on your nerves.

“So this is the scene of the latest murder?” Emily asks as you two trek through the overgrown forest.

“Yah. The locals say an old lady used to grow flowers out in this greenery. Not many of them have actually been out here though,” you explain.

She purses her lips then asks, “Who found the bodies then?”

“The old lady’s granddaughter. She came out here hoping to restore the greenery in memory of her grandma.”

It was sad really. For such a peaceful place to be the scene of a gruesome murder. You hope the poor girl will still restore it after all of this is over. It deserves that much.

You jolt a little as your phone vibrates in your pocket. You fish it out and flip it open when you notice it’s Spencer.

“Yah Spence?” You grin, missing the narrow-eyed look Emily sends you.

“Are you at the crime scene yet?” His voice comes through the speaker softly.

“Almost. How about you guys?”

The team had split up to examine each scene. Spencer and Morgan were supposed to go to the second scene, an abandoned motel.

“We’re here. There’s not much to look at, though.” You stifle a giggle at his irritated tone. “There’s a lot of overgrown plants everywhere, so finding any evidence out there will be practically impossible.”

“It’s the same around here,” you tell him, “overgrown plants and all.”

You hear him blow a puff of air out in frustration.

“I think Morgan and I are going to go talk to the victim’s families after we finish checking the place out, start on victimology. I just wanted to call and make sure you and Emily are okay.”

“We’re all good here,” You hum. “We’re coming up on the greenery so I’m gonna let you go.”

“Okay, talk to you later, (y/n).”

The phone clicks and you slide it back into your pocket with a sigh.

“Be careful.”

You turn to Emily, eyebrow raised questioningly.

“It sounds like you like him. It’s actually really obvious, especially after this morning.” She shrugs. “Just…be careful.”

“Okay?”

What is she so worried about? No harm can come from a tiny crush. It will probably go away in a few days, anyways.

The two of you duck under the police tape and make your way into the abandoned building. You take note of the broken glass in the door. The unsub forced his way in. You scrunch your nose as you step into the greenery. The sickly sweet scent of flowers assaults you, almost forcing you to take a step back at the pungency. It causes an uneasy feeling to grow in your chest. That itch in your throat comes back. You cough and walk further in the place, gently pinching your nose to stifle the overbearing scent.

The crime scene is a small room in the back of the building, the nursery. Everything seems in order on the shelves, but that is the only normal thing about the room. The blood soaked chairs and floor are blaringly out of place in the warm, green room. There is noticeably more blood under one of the chairs, likely from the female victim. You carefully avoid the puddles of blood and stoop to examine the chair. The victims were tied with nylon rope, using complex yet beautiful knots, ones no average person would know. They remind you of the knots a Boy Scout learns to tie.

“He really made sure they couldn’t escape,” Emily muses as she checks the other chair, “He tied the arms, legs, and torso, that’s pretty extreme.”

“So, possibly paranoid? That could be why he picks these incredibly remote locations. He doesn’t want them to be found. Doesn’t want to be faced with what he’s done. He doesn’t think people will come out here, so it’ll be like nothing happened. We’re lucky the girl came here at the time she did.”

There’s no telling how the crime scene would have been after a few days. The fresh evidence should help create a more detailed profile.

“Okay so,” you begin to process the scene as a whole, attempting to mentally recreate the events that happened, “the unsub gets in through that door by breaking the glass and unlocking it from the inside. He then drags in the victims,” You crouch down near the door, noting the smooth path of disturbed dirt along the floor that travels to the back room, “and ties them up back here. We can assume he’s strong enough to drag a grown man then.”

“How would he have gotten both of them in here without a struggle?” Emily wonders aloud.

“Both of the victims could have been unconscious. He may have physically incapacitated them, or drugged them. Based on the amount of violence though, I imagine he wanted them to be conscious for every bit of it, so I doubt he drugged them.” You work off of her question, allowing it to guide your thought process.

Drugs would make it too easy for this guy. He wanted to torture these people, mentally and physically. You don’t think he’s a sadist though. The attacks are too violent and imprecise. They’re done in a fit of rage. Jealousy perhaps.

“The unsub tortures the woman, making sure he watches-” you gesture to the chair when the man would have sat, “-and then he kills her. After she’s dead, he slits the man’s throat and calmly walks out.”

“No signs of remorse,” Emily chips in, “He leaves them still tied up. No message either.”

You nod, lips pursed as you scan the scene once more. There doesn’t seem to be anything that you’re missing.

“Let’s go meet the others back at the department,” you suggest, “I’m sure Hotch will want to give the police a profile to go off of.”

Emily agrees and the two of you start the walk back to the car. You only relax once you get there and the stench of flowers no longer surrounds you.

—

You pop a peppermint in your mouth, hoping to ease whatever is bugging you as you step into the local police station. Hopefully you’re not getting sick. Hotch might make you go home in that case and you’d rather stay to help catch this son of a gun.

“Did you two find anything at the scene?” Hotch is immediately beside you.

Emily is the first to respond, “Nothing different really. It did bring up some questions though.”

“Yah, the victims were dragged into the building, but we don’t know how he got them in without a struggle. We’ll need the autopsy reports to know for sure.”

“The chief of police just dropped those off,” Hotch informs you, “We’ll go over them when Reid and Morgan get back.”

You nod and follow him to the room the team was given to work in. You don’t know when Spencer and Morgan are going to get back, so you strike up a mindless conversation with Emily. It helps take your mind off of the weird sensation plaguing you.

Thankfully, it’s not long before Spencer and Morgan show up. You smile and wave at Spencer who returns it before taking the seat beside you. Your grin grows wider.

“You talked to the families?”

He nods. “Yah. We confirmed the reports. So-“

“So,” Hotch cuts him off and Spencer falls silent, lips twitching up awkwardly, “victimology?”

“Right! All the victims were killed in pairs, and after questioning the families, we confirmed that all the victims were in long-term relationships.”

“Did you find any connections between the couples?”

“Nothing specific” Morgan chips in, “I have Garcia checking into their histories.”

“There might not be anything…” you mumble, thinking more to yourself.

The other look at you questioningly, and you blush.

“What is it, (l/n)?”

“Well, I mean, look at the victims.” You gesture to the pictures laid out on the table. “All of them are from different age groups, and none of them look very similar. Point is, all of them are very different. The unsub could just be targeting random couples off the street. We theorized before that he struggled with women in the past.”

“And assuming that he’s probably never had a functioning relationship, he could be targeting them out of jealousy,” Spencer catches your drift quickly, “If he was facing constant rejection, the build up of anger could have lead to him taking out his aggression on any innocent couples he sees.”

“We still don’t know how he gets them to the crime scene though,” Emily interjects, “The police found no signs of a break in or a struggle at the homes, and that’s where they were last seen.”

You turn to Hotch, “You said they sent the autopsy reports, right? Did they find anything that could help us?”

“All the victims were knocked unconscious by a blunt object. He likely caught them off guard after being welcomed into the home.”

“So the victims probably knew the unsub in some way,” Morgan concludes.

“I don’t think that really helps us. This town’s fairly small,” Spencer chirps, earning a glare from Morgan.

A faint smile rests on your lips as you watch the team continue to bounce ideas off of each other. You chip in when you can, of course. Garcia also calls to add what she’s learned, though it’s not much.

Everything you have so far seems generic almost. It could be any single, Caucasian man in the town. With no forensic evidence, it’s going to be hard to get anything figured out until he either kills again or someone comes forward with some testimony. The best you can hope for is someone can recognize the profile you’ve come up with so far.

“Let’s go share the preliminary profile with the police. J.J. will make a statement to the press as well. Let’s hope something turns up.”

Let’s hope.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What seems like a calm, uneventful day gets flipped on its head with a single call.

It’s been a few days and the team comes up with nothing. No tips have come in and it feels like the case has fallen flat on its face. Even now you all sit in your designated room at the station, silently looking over the evidence in the hopes that something new will come up.

A cough rattles your chest as you cover your mouth with your elbow. Your whole body shakes with the force of them. They break the silence of the room. Your throat stings, feeling dry and tight.

“Are you okay, (y/n)?” Emily rubs your back, her brow creased with worry.

You nod and wave her off, “Yah, yah, I’m okay. I think I’m just coming down with something.”

“Why don’t you go rest, (y/n)? You’ve been working late all week, you started early today, and we’re not really closer to getting this guy. You need a break,” Morgan suggests, his concern also apparent.

“No, I’m fine,” you insist, clearing your throat, “It’s just a cough.”

“Coughing is actually a symptom of a multitude of lethal illnesses, like cystic fibrosis or lung cancer. Most people dismiss it, but-“

“Reid.” A chorus of voices say, stopping him.

Spencer takes a moment to realize the context of his words, and immediately turns a light shade of pink. He casts you a glance with worried honey eyes, and your heart melts a little when an apology quickly spills from his lips.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to suggest you have one of those, your cough is likely just from exertion pairs with allergies.”

You smile softly at the brunet, suppressing the cough that builds in your throat, “I know you didn’t mean that stuff Spence, don’t worry.”

He nods with a relieved smile. The cough gets hard to suppress and your throat burns.

“Why don’t we all take a break?” Morgan suggests, taking your attention away, “We could all use one. There’s a diner down the road, why don’t we go get some breakfast?”

Everyone agrees, so you pack up your papers and head out. The diner is only a few minutes away, and you can’t say you don’t enjoy the fresh air that comes with the walk. It clears your head a bit and eases the pain in your chest. You laugh and joke with the others now, feeling lighter than you did moments before. They’re probably right. You’re overworking yourself, but you really feel like you need to catch this guy before he kills again.

You step into the cozy diner before the others and revel in the warmth that fills the room. Derek picks a table near the front, Emily sitting next to him. You take the opposite seat, heart skipping a beat when Spencer slides in next to you. His warmth brings you a sense of comfort, but also makes you uneasy. Your lips pinch together at the strange flicker of emotions. Why does he make you feel like that?

“What do you think you’re going to get?” Spencer leans closer, his shoulder brushing yours.

You clear your throat nervously at the casual touch, “I don’t, I don’t know. What do you think I should get?”

“Well-” You let out a breath as he begins to ramble about what will help keep you from getting sick.

You flinch when something nudges your foot from under the table. Glancing at Emily, you notice that she still looks worried. It’s the same look she gave you after that phone call with Spencer the other day. You dip you head and offer a smile to ease her, which seems to work. She leans back in her seat and turns to Derek.

“-and obviously oranges will help. They have a fruit yogurt dish, that could help if you have a sore throat.”

“That sounds lovely,” you hum, resting your chin on your palm, elbow propped on the table.

Spencer grins to himself, almost like it’s a small victory to have been helpful. His eyes flicker between you and the menu he holds in his hands.

Realizing that you’re staring, you cough and direct your eyes to your lap. Jeez, one of these days you’re going to zone out so badly that he’s going to think you’re some kind of creepy stalker. Which you’re not, obviously. It’s just a tiny crush. That’s why you feel weird. Just a crush, no other reason.

“How many days have we been here?” You ask out of nowhere, attempting to distract yourself.

“Three days, why?”

“It’s just, the last victims were found a week before we were called in. The interval between murders has been getting shorter each time, but this is breaking that pattern. Last time it was a week. It’s been more than a week.” It has been bugging you for a while.

“Our presence may have caused the unsub to recede back into himself,” Spencer suggests, “He’s scared of getting caught now.”

“He’ll break eventually though, he’ll go after someone,” Derek mumbles.

“And we’ll catch him,” Emily insists, glaring at the two men before turning to you, “We’re taking a break, just stop thinking about the case for a little bit, please.”

You nod, feeling bad for even bringing it up in the first place. She’s right, you need to get your mind off of the case for a bit.

A waitress comes by to get your orders, and soon you’re enjoying a plate of fruit and a bowl of plain yogurt. It eases the ache in your throat that flares randomly.

-

“Don’t even try to deny it, you jumped like a scared cat at the scene,” Emily practically shouts, teasing Derek about an old case where he got spooked at the scene.

You’re laughing so hard by now that you can barely breathe. In your fit of giggles, you accidentally lean against Spencer, who’s smiling amusedly at the others. He stiffens against you, which snaps you out of your delirium. Your laughter turns to a hacking cough at that exact moment, the ache in your lungs rushing up into your throat as you force yourself away from him. Everyone’s amusement turns to concern. Great, you ruined the good mood again.

You weakly wave a hand in dismissal and slump back into the booth seat, exhaustion taking over your body.

“Are you sure you aren’t sick? You don’t have a fever or anything?” Derek questions.

Your only reply is a shrug as you avoid eye contact. You hate making people worry about you, especially your friends. You really should have just stayed in the office, made up some excuse to get away from them. A quick nap probably would have fixed this whole thing up.

You flinch when a hand presses against your forehead, fingers long and gentle.

“You feel warm,” Spencer mumbles, eyebrows pinching together, “You really should-“

You bat his hand away softly with a huff, color filling your cheeks, “I’m fine, seriously.”

Spencer raises an eyebrow at you, clearly unconvinced.

“(Y/n), if you don’t take care of yourself this will only escalate into something worse.”

He won’t give up on this, you know that. Once he sets his mind to something, there’s no changing it. He’s too stubborn and caring. Why does he have to have such a good heart?

“I promise to hibernate for a few days,” you assure him, “but after this case.”

It looks as though he’s about to argue, but your phone rings before he can get a single word out. You hold back a sigh of relief and quickly snatch it from your bag.

“Yah, Hotch?”

“They found two more bodies. Come quick, it’s worse than the last.”

**-skip to scene-**

“(Y/n), I think you should go back to the hotel and rest. We can handle this,” Spencer worries as he walks beside you.

He’s like a mother hen. It’s endearing, but you’re a grown woman, you can take care of yourself. You basically started this case, so you’re going to help finish it. A little cold will not get in the way of that.

“Spencer,” You stop and turn to face him, frowning when you see how truly concerned he is. You sigh and take his hand, squeezing it softly, “I promise you, I’ll be fine. We’re already here, and they need all hands on deck. I’ll take a nap when we get back to the office, okay?”

You brush your thumb over his knuckles softly, an attempt to comfort him. He swallows and nods his head slowly, eyes downcast and lips pursed.

“Yah, okay.”

You wish he sounded more sure, but you can’t take anymore time to reassure him. Hotch sounded very urgent over the phone.

“Come on, let’s go.” You give his hand a final squeeze before letting go and following the path Hotch told you to.

He said the murder took place in an abandoned gas station near the edge of town, right off the highway. It’s consistent with the other scenes, but he said it’s worse. No context or anything. He really knows how to kick up the suspense. You thought he was the only one without a flare for the dramatics.

You sigh and pick your way through the overgrown vegetation, Spencer trailing quietly beside you.

“Bout time you both get here. How did we leave at the same time and beat you here?” Derek rushes up to you, tone joking but expression serious, “You guys need to see this.”

“What is it?”

He leads you into the gas station and back into one of the bathrooms. Your body stops as you step into the doorway, like heavy weights have suddenly been tied to your feet. You’re used to seeing bodies. You’ve seen plenty in this line of work, but this…

You jolt when something rests on your shoulder, but relax when you realize it’s only Spencer. He nods to you reassuringly and you quickly shuffle in so he can step up beside you.

The scene seems practically the same as the others. Small room, two chairs, two victims, blood. There’s so much blood though. Hotch was right, this time it’s so much worse.

“He’s rapidly devolving,” Spencer comments, grip tightening on your shoulder though remaining gentle.

“This is a big jump,” Emily says, “So far he’s only tortured the women and then killed both of them. Why would he do this?”

This referring to the ways the bodies are splayed open, sliced down the front. You balk at the way the ribs are pried open, splaying wildly from the chest to reveal the blood and gore inside. It’s grotesque and inefficient, like someone used their bare hands to rip the ribcage open. Blood is everywhere, coating every surface. You look down to see how it seeps around your shoes. An unfamiliar sense of dread creeps up your spine.

“I don’t, I don’t understand,” You stutter, words sticking in your throat, “This is so messy, so sloppy. Why is he not following his pattern?”

“He’s taken something from the bodies this time,” Hotch starts, “Both victims are missing their lungs.”

The sensation worsens.

“He removed their lungs?”

After those words slip from your lips, you find it hard to breathe, like your own lungs have been stripped from your body. The room tilts and spins and it feels like your slipping, slipping on the blood under your shoes. The only thing keeping you upright is the hand gripping your shoulder. Everything feels tight. Constricted. You can’t breathe. Sandpaper runs up your throat and a violent cough rips through you suddenly.

“(Y/n)? (Y/n)?!”

You try to focus on the voice, tilting your head to gaze at a bewildered Spencer. His face blurs, going in and out of focus. You grip his arm tightly as the rest of the team surrounds you, all with identical looks on their faces.

“What’s wrong with her? Why is she coughing up blood?”

Blood? You deliriously wipe at your mouth, drawing you hand back to see a small smear of red liquid.

“She hasn’t been sleeping, we thought it was just a cough but this is worse.”

You lean forward, head light. You’re bleeding. Huh.

“Prentiss, take her to the hospital, make sure she’s okay and that she gets some rest.”

You are handed off to Emily, though you hesitate to let go of Spencer, but you eventually shift to lean against her instead. You don’t hear anything else as she leads you out of the gas station and to her car. You slump into the seat as soon as your inside, finally having a moment of stillness.

“Just take me to the hotel,” you breathe out when she slides into the driver seat, “I can sleep this off.”

“But Hotch said-“

“Please?”

You don’t want to go to the hospital. You know you’ll feel better after a good night’s rest. It was just the scent of blood mixed with all the mold and growth in the restroom. That’s what set this off.

“(Y/n) you’ve never reacted at a crime scene like this. You literally just had a panic attack! Everyone is freaked out. You need a doctor, you’re bleeding.”

“No,” you snap, voice croaky, “I’ll be fine. Please Em, I just need sleep.”

Emily seems conflicted for a few moments before she sighs heavily. You relax as soon as she nods and starts the car. Your head drops, forehead pressing against the cold window and eyes drooping.

Sleep will help. You’ll get some sleep and then wake up ready to work. No problem. That’s all you need. It’s just a cough after all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You end up making a great discovery that pushes the case forward. Or at least, you think it will.

It’s not. You were wrong, so wrong.

You hands shake as you wipe at your lips, your chin, your cheeks. It doesn’t help, just smears the crimson across your pale skin. With labored breath, you look down towards the hotel sink. Blood drips down the white porcelain. Your blood. It pools in the basin.

Among the blood lies something that makes fear tingle through your heart. A single, delicate white rose petal. Its pure color is stained with that goresome crimson.

It was never supposed to happen to you. You’ve heard of the cases. It’s not rare, but also not common. You barely know anything about it, but you know it’s bad. Fatal.

It’s called Hanahaki Disease.

You shakily step out of the bathroom and shut the door behind you. Your entire body aches, your mind struggling to wrap around what is happening. Your legs give out from under you once you reach the bed. With a groan, you drag yourself to the middle of the mattress and curl up, arms wrapping around your stomach.

Anxiety overcomes you as your thoughts run rampant. What if you get fired? They could force you to leave the BAU until you get the issue under control. How do you even do that? You remember there’s some kind of surgery to cure it, but the repercussions were lengthy. You hadn’t bothered to read them.

You rub your eyes harshly, trying to banish the thoughts. You would rather focus on the cause.

Hanahaki disease, an illness caused by unrequited love.

You can’t brush it aside as a tiny crush now it seems. You almost want to laugh at the bitter fate life has planned for you. You pushed it aside every time, always dismissed the emotions that swelled in your heart at the sight of him.

Now you have to face it. It’s useless denying it.

You’re in love with Doctor Spencer Reid.

And he doesn’t love you back.

—

It’s the next day when the team comes to visit you. You cleaned the bathroom, getting rid of the evidence of your sickness, and did some research on it late into the night. A poor choice really, considering it made the dark circles under your eyes more prominent. Your really getting sick of the concerned looks they earn you, though.

“Why didn’t you go to the hospital, (l/n)?” Hotch asks from the foot of your bed, looking ticked, but yet again, that’s how he always looks.

“Because I’m fine,” you insist for the billionth time, blatantly lying through your teeth, “It was just all the fumes and stuff.”

“You had a panic attack, (y/n).” Forget you Morgan.

“Forgive me if the scene was a bit graphic for my tired mind,” you bite out sarcastically.

“I’m taking you off the case until you’re better.”

“What? No!” You protest, shooting up in your bed, “I’m the one who started the profile and research on this case! I’m not dropping it because of a little cough!”

You know you shouldn’t question him, but even the heat of Hotch’s glare can’t make you back down. There’s no way on earth you’re letting him take you off the case.

“(Y/n), just listen to him, you need to get better,” Emily tries to reason with you.

“No,” you’re stubbornness flares up, “We’re close to getting this guy, I can feel it!” Your turn to Hotch, “I swear I’m feeling fine! Whatever was bugging me is gone, it won’t get in the way of work again. Please Hotch, I’ll take a sick break when we finish or something.”

Your begging seems to work because Hotch lets out an exasperated sigh. A small grin of victory forms on your lips.

“Fine.” He budges. “But you need to take the rest of today off and recover. You can come back tomorrow.”

“Thank you!” You resist the urge to fist pump the air.

Hotch shakes his head with a fond smile, “Come on, let’s go and let her rest.”

As they’re about to leave you call out for Emily to wait a moment. Something has been nagging at you the past few minutes, like an itch of awareness that scratches at your lungs.

“Where’s Spencer?” You had noticed as soon as they entered that the young doctor was absent.

She raises an eyebrow at you, lips pursed before she replies, “He’s talking to the first victims’ parents. He thought it might be possible that the unsub has a connection to his first victims.”

You nod your head. Of course Spencer would think of that. The first victims may have been old friends of his and they could have been his stressor.

“He and J.J. went there an hour or so before we came here.”

He’s with JJ? Something bitter rises in your throat as you lean back against the headboard. Of course he would be. He’s always around her. Of course he chose to go do that instead of visit you.

“Thanks Em, see you tomorrow.” Your words come off distant, but she seems to get that you want to be alone now.

After wishing you a good day, she leaves. The room falls into silence.

You sigh and close your eyes. The other day you thought you had a moment. You felt so close to him and you thought he may have, for just a smidge of a moment, felt the same. But you guess not. He’ll never see you like that. He’ll only ever see you as a little girl, a little sister, who cannot take care of herself and needs constant protection.

It takes a moment to realize that a tear has made its way down your cheek. You wipe at it hastily.

Blinking away the remaining moisture in your eyes, you make up your mind that you need to get out of this small room. You need fresh air to clear the fog from your lungs. Forget resting. You need to breathe and this room is suffocating.

After grabbing your bag, you quickly make your way down the stairs and out of the hotel. You barely register where you are going, too focused on the crisp evening wind that hits you. It helps erase the thoughts that plagued you moments before. Your feet lead you down the sidewalk aimlessly, which doesn’t concern you in the least. Sometimes it’s nice to just walk without a destination in mind.

—

You take a moment to stare at the building in front of you. Why would you come here of all places? What part of your subconscious thought it would be funny to lead you here?

The greenery from the third set of murders stands in front of you, shimmering glass and all. It sits almost peacefully among the trees and brush. You know there is nothing peaceful about it though. Days ago it was filled with screams and cries of agony and fear.

With a deep breath, you take the remaining steps to the smashed door. You might as well take another look since your here. Hotch is going to kill you, but you really can’t seem to care at this point.

You open the door and slip inside.

The light is softer here, filtered through the green panes of glass that make up the cylindrical building. You bask in the warmth of the room for a moment before you begin walking between the isles. Each is filled with flowers, exploding from the pots and filling the room with color.

You used to love flowers. Their grace and beauty always enamored you as a child. You remember how you used to prance around with a flower crown on your head and a giant smile plastered on your face. It seems cruel that that part of you could be stripped away by this sickness.

Your steps slow when you reach the back room. It’s only a small moment of hesitation though. You step in, holding you breath as your eyes flicker to the blood stained floor. Flashes of the lastest scene flicker through your head. You force them away. You need to keep a clear mind if you’re going to look for something new. Last time you were razor focused on the chairs, the door, the drag marks. You didn’t bother to look around the rest of the room and perhaps the police made the same mistake. There has to be something else here.

The room seems simple, organized. The unsub probably didn’t touch anything if he didn’t find it necessary. In fact, he seems to have kept the chairs as far away from the wall of young flowers as he could. Strange.

You run a finger along a wilting petal of one of the flowers. The other plants all seem healthy, as if they’ve been watered, likely by the granddaughter, but these are dying. She probably can’t stand coming back here.

You shake your head. Not pertinent to the case.

Your eyes lazily trace over all the shelves to look for something, anything you could have missed before. It seems hopeless. Everything is absolutely normal. That is, until your eyes trail along the bottom shelf and catch a glimpse of something…different.

You immediately drop to your knees, hands shuffling to shove the small pots aside. It’s buried between them near the back of the shelf, but impossible to miss if you look.

A single, white tulip with wilting petals rests on the wooden shelf. Your fingers tremble as you pick it up and bring it closer to your face.

Blood.

Speckles and splotches of blood coat the pure petals of the flower. You lean back on your feet, excitement rushing through you.

Finally! You finally have a piece of evidence that can lead you to the unsub! It all makes sense now, why he killed them.

The grin on your face slowly fades the more you think about it.

He has hanahaki disease. Just like you.

He’s suffering. Just like you.

He’s devolving because he’s dying.

….Just like you.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions build and snap. Emily is a good friend.

You rush back to the hotel, not even noticing how late it has gotten, with the flower tucked safely away in a plastic bag in your purse. The team needs to hear about this. Maybe you’ll finally be able to catch this guy.

Confusion stops you when you rush into the hotel and see your team all pacing in the lobby. Your eyes gravitate immediately to Spencer who seems the most agitated of the group. He’s running his hands through his hair, face a mix of conflicting emotions.

“What’s going on?” You ask hesitantly, but everyone hears you.

Spencer’s head snaps to you so quickly that you worry he might hurt himself. Almost immediately he is right in front of you, hands wrapping around your shoulders and holding you in a deadly grip, like you might disappear.

“Where have you been?”

You peer up at him with wide eyes, worried by the sharp edge in his voice and the wild look in his eyes.

“I, I went for a, for a walk,” you answer tentatively, trying to pull away from him.

He’s not acting normal and it’s scaring you. Sure, Spencer gets worried about you sometimes, but he’s never been like this. He almost looks angry. Why?

“Why?” He presses.

“Spencer,” Emily tries to cut in.

He blatantly ignores her, “You shouldn’t be out on a walk when your sick like this. It’s too dangerous!”

“But I found somethi-“

“Something could have happened to you.”

You finally break away from his grip and wrap your arms around yourself to disguise the tremor that runs through you. A frown tugs at your lips because of his interrupting, condescending words.

“Like what, huh?” You snap back at him defensively, voice shaking, “I’m a grown woman, Spencer, I can do what I want.” Your chest aches.

He scowls at you, “We’re chasing a serial killer who’s rapidly devolving. He could have abducted or killed you.”

“That’s against his M.O. and you know it.”

“Spencer.” It’s Hotch this time, and he actually gets a reaction from the young doctor.

“She put herself in danger! She can’t work this case Hotch, she’s not in the right state of mind.”

Anger boils up in your chest. How dare he? How dare he treat you like an impotent child? Who is he to say whether or not you’re in the right state of mind to be working this case? It’s because of you that there’s new evidence, a new lead! The emotions bubble up into your stinging throat.

“Stop treating me like a child,” you seethe, drawing the attention of everyone back to you. “You have no right to be acting this way.”

“I wouldn’t be acting this way if you hadn’t acted like a imcompetent, defiant juvenile,” Spencer huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

The tension in the room is palpable. You could cut it with a knife. Everyone in the lobby has their eyes on the two of you. Strangers are staring. Spencer is glaring at you. The team is shocked into silence.

You suck in a deep breath, planning on telling him off, but the only thing that comes out is a broken, inhuman sound like a guttural cough and sob combined, that you try to quiet with you hand. Tears build up in your eyes and you take a step back.

An immediate shift is noticeable on Spencer’s face. Regret and worry replace his irritation.

He reaches towards you, mouth open like he’s about to apologize, but you don’t stay to listen. You shove him out of the way as you book it to the stairs. You don’t even hear the shouts from behind you, concern from Emily and anger from Morgan.

You lungs ache as you take the stairs two at a time, already at a loss of breath from the gagging coughs and sobs that erupt from your chest. Tears blur your vision.

How could he say something like that? How could gentle, intelligent Spencer say something so stupid and hurtful? You’ve only ever been kind to him. You go out of your way to nice to him! And he turns around to treat you like this?!

You can barely still your hands long enough to unlock your room, missing the key hole a few times before finally shoving it in and twisting.

Your legs barely carry you as you stumble into the room, not even bothering to turn on the lights.

It’s hard to breathe. It’s hard to think. Everything is consumed by the pain blossoming in your chest and throat.

The tiles are cold under your knees as you collapse in the bathroom next to the toilet. Your entire body curls into itself as you retch violently. Your knuckles turn white to match the porcelain gripped under your fingers. You can’t breathe, like your throat is blocked. The bitter taste of iron and bile invades your mouth, burns your throat. You gag on it, stomach convulsing again even though there is nothing left.

“(Y/n)?!”

You gulp down air, feeling light headed and shaky as you pull away from the toilet, blood dripping from your lips. Your eyes drift to the side where you see a blurry figure coming closer.

“(Y/n), are you okay?” The voice is distinctly female.

“Emily,” you wheeze, more tears dripping down your chin as you reach out to her.

She crouches beside you, arms wrapping around your trembling frame. You clutch at the back of her shirt, sobs now being the only thing wracking your body since there’s nothing left to cough up.

“Why would he, why would, why would he say those things?” You ask between sobs and hiccups.

She hushes you and rubs your back. It takes a few minutes for you to calm down fully. Your breath comes in little gasps and your still shaking, but you pull away from her to wipe at your eyes.

“(Y/n)…”

You look up to her questioningly, only to see that her wide-eyed stare is locked on the toilet. Your gaze followers hers and you see why she looks so unnerved. Bloody roses and petals are scattered everywhere along with copious amounts of blood. Your pale face falls blank at the sight.

“You have-“

“Hanahaki disease. Yah, I know.” The words are hollow and raspy. “It’s progressing pretty fast too.”

Emily’s eyes snap to you, her mouth agape.

“This could-“

“Kill me?”

Your eyes meet, and you can’t help but shrug. The overwhelming emotions seem to have drained out of you, leaving you feeling exhausted. Why should you care anymore, anyways? Now you know how Spencer feels, so there’s no point in even trying anymore.

“Can you help me to my bed?”

She nods, too shocked to say anything. You flush the toilet before she leads you out to the bedroom. You’ll have to clean the rim later, but at least most of it’s gone now.

Emily finally speaks up when she eases you down onto the mattress. “How long have you known?”

“Just a few days. Since the latest crime scene.”

“And it’s already this bad?”

“It’s different for everyone. I read of one case where someone developed full flowers within hours.”

You push yourself towards the headboard, resting your head against the cool wood.

“Its Spencer, isn’t it?”

You laugh, but it’s dry and humorless. “You mean the guy who just criticized and belittled me in front of everyone down there? Yup.”

She’s quiet, which you don’t mind. Everything aches now and you really just want to sleep for once. The thought of doing anything else right now seems impossible. You allow your eyes to close, taking a deep breath. It’s easier to breathe now.

“What are you going to do?”

The words are soft, scared. Why is she scared? You’re the one who’s dying.

“Hm?”

“What are you going to do, (y/n)? We can’t let you die!”

“What do you suppose I do?” You ask her, opening an eye to a slit so you can see her.

“Isn’t there a surgery or something?”

Your eyes snap open at that and you wheeze out, “No, that’s not an option.”

“Why?” She looks at you in confusion.

You struggle to sit upright, breathing becoming unstable again, “You don’t understand Em! Do you know the side effects of that surgery?! It takes away your emotions! I’d never be able to feel this, to feel love, again! I’d rather be in pain every day than to suffer like that! I’d rather die!”

“Okay, okay! Please calm down!” She pushes you back against the pillow, eyebrows drawn up in worry and fear.

You purse your lips. She doesn’t deserve to see this part of you. She’s trying to help, trying to find a solution. You’ve already looked, and you know there’s only two. The surgery or the reciprocation of your love, neither of which are going to happen. You know that for sure after what just happened downstairs.

“Sorry Em.”

“It’s okay,” She accepts the apology readily. “We need to tell the others, hold on, let me call Hotch.”

Just as she’s about to stand and pull out her phone, you reach out and grab her arm.

“Don’t.”

“But (y/n)!”

“ **He** can’t know,” you whisper, looking at her pleadingly.

“But Hotch and Morgan-“

“Them either. I’ll get pulled off the team, Em.”

“(Y/n), your sick, like actually sick. You need medical help.”

“There’s no other cure. Just please, let me finish this case. I need to catch this son of a gun.”

She’s silent for many moments, and you fear she might tell them anyways. You know you’re asking a lot of her, but you need to do this. She has to understand that.

“if you push yourself too hard, I will tell them.”

“Okay, I promise, I’ll take it slow,” you easily agree..

She nods, seemingly content with the answer. You think for a moment that she’s about to leave, but instead she shuffles closer to sit beside you.

“You know, as soon as you left, Morgan started ripping Reid a new one.”

“Really?” You giggle tiredly at the image of Morgan shouting at Spencer. “Serves him right.”

Emily laughs along with you, and you relax even further against the pillows. It’s nice to know she’s going to treat you the same way she always has. You were a little worried you had scared her off with the sickness and attitude. You really didn’t mean to snap at her.

“Thank you, Emily.”

She raises an eyebrow, as if my words are a surprise to her.

“You’ve done and are doing a lot to help me. I really appreciate it. You’re a good friend.” You speak earnestly, turning your body to face her. “A better friend than I deserve after snapping like that.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m an FBI agent, I have thick skin,” she sends you a joking wink, “I’m going to stick by you through this. Anything you need, I’m here for you.”

“Thank you,” You repeat softly, smiling.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More questions arise but things take a turn before you can get any real answers.

“What did you and J.J. find out when you questioned the parents of the first victims?”

You and the rest of the team sit in the police department, going over everything once again in hopes of seeing something new. You only have a few days before the unsub kills again, and everyone wants to catch him before that happens.

“The two victims, Joseph Banks and Taylee Caldwell, had been in a relationship for three years according to their parents. They were high school sweethearts and moved in together when they graduated,” Spencer explains, but you notice that his voice lacks any sort of interest in the words, “However, about a week before they were killed, they had a pretty volatile fight. The day before they both disappeared, the parents say they had a very public break up.”

“Could that have been the stressor?” Emily questions from beside you.

It would make sense. If the unsub witnessed the breakup, it could have been enough to set him off. In his mind, they had a bond he would never get to experience because his love is unrequited. They threw away a relationship that he envied, that he wished above everything that he could have. What they did was unbelievable to him. He got angry and killed them because they didn’t realize what they had was unique, special. They just gave up on it.

You begin to wonder about this unrequited love of the unsub. She would probably know about him. The new profile in your head leads you to believe he would show obsessive tendencies towards her. Excessive gifts, attention, actions that could be considered stalkerish. Maybe you can find the girl if you ask around, and then you can find the unsub.

“We should ask about the friends, see if any of them fit our profile,” Morgan suggests, “It’s very likely the unsub had a personal connection with them.”

“That’s a good idea. Ried, Prentiss, go interview the friends, see what you can find,” Hotch intructs, then his eyes dart to you and you freeze, shaking you head rapidly, “Go with them, (l/n), and take it easy.”

You grumble under your breath but nod. Prentiss stands and you follow her, head down to avoid eye contact with Spencer. Why is Hotch doing this to you? Maybe this is his idea of how to break the awkwardness between you and Spencer that has been persisting for the past couple days. Ever since he said those things in the hotel lobby, you’ve been avoiding him like the plague. Yes, your heart still aches when you see him or hear his voice, but now it is a mix of pain and love.

“Where do we go first?” You ask.

“I say we go talk to Taylee’s friends first. They probably would have paid more attention to the type of people she hung out with,” Emily suggests and you nod in agreement.

“The person we’re looking for likely broke things off with the others once the two went missing. He would isolate himself after the incident,” Spencer chips in from behind you, “Hopefully they’ve noticed his absence. It would have been abrupt.”

“Like yo-”

“Hey, Spencer, do you remember the name of Taylee’s best friend? Did her mom ever talk about them?” Emily cuts you off, narrowing her eyes at you. You scoff and cross your arms.

“Yah, Mrs. Caldwell mentioned that most of the friends came to the funeral. She talked about a…Kathryn. Kathryn Jones. She grew up with Taylee, they’re next door neighbors!”

“That’s where we’re going then.”

-

“We’re looking for Kathryn Jones. Does she live here still?”

An older woman, you assume she’s Kathryn’s mom, shakes her head, “No, she moved out after the…after Taylee’s funeral.” She dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief.

Spencer clears his throat and steps up beside you, “And where does Kathryn live now?”

“She moved to the other side of town. She said she didn’t want to be here anymore, where there were so many reminders of…” She trails off.

“Do you know her address?” Emily presses softly.

“Yes, yes, let me go write it down.”

Mrs. Jones dips back into her home, leaving the door open. You sigh and lean against one of the walls, tiredness creeping up your bones. Even with all the extra rest you got the past couple days, being out and about stresses your body. You wish you could lay down and take a nap. Maybe if you take the back seat you’ll be able to.

The mother comes back a few moments later with a card, the address written on it in messy letters. You thank her for her time and head back to the car.

“Are you okay? You seem a little unsteady,” Spencer worries as he comes up beside you.

You shrug and look away from him, replying in a clipped voice, “I’m fine, just tired. Come on, let’s go.”

You don’t see the way he flinches at your steely tone or the flash of hurt in his eyes. In the same way, he does not see the blush that lights up your face and the sadness that clouds your expression. It hurts to be so close to him yet so far. It’s his fault though, and he needs to face the consequences of his actions.

You cover up a cough as you climb into the car.

-

“Kathryn Jones?” Emily knocks on the door.

“Yes?” The girl you’ve been searching for comes to the door, opening it a smidge.

“Hi, I’m Emily Prentiss from the FBI, and these are Agents (l/n) and Reid, we have a few questions for you, if that’s okay.”

Kathryn nods slowly and opens the door the rest of the way. You step in after your companions, taking a quick look around the room. It’s pretty bland for a college student. Not many personal touches or bright pops of color that might be expected. Everything is in order and decorations are sparse. All signs of someone going through an overwhelming change in their life.

You settle down in the living room and Emily begins the interview, “We were wondering if you’ve noticed an absence of anyone after Taylee’s death. A close friend perhaps who’s became disconnected from the rest of your group.”

“What, what do you mean?” Kathryn asks, eyebrows drawing together in confusion, “You think a friend killed…?” Her voice slowly dies off.

“We do believe that the murderer could have been a friend of Taylee or Joseph,” Spencer tells her, “Their breakup would have had a big impact on him. Can you recall anyone that had a negative reaction to their separation?”

“Well, I mean, yah. We were all pretty shocked,” Kathryn shifts uncomfortably, “Everyone thought they were going to get married eventually.”

“Okay, but did anyone stick out? Did anyone get angry about it?” Emily asks.

“No, not anyone I knew. We all…we all just wanted to comfort Taylee. She was heartbroken.”

“Do you know who initiated the fight and the breakup?” You pipe up, curious.

“Taylee did,” the words are quiet, “she thought Joseph was cheating on her.”

This piques your interest, “Was he?”

Kathryn shakes her head, “No, he was always faithful to her. No one knows why she got paranoid. He always treated her right, respected her. They were perfect together.”

You wonder if that is the particular fact that stressed the unsub. In his eyes, the woman is at fault for ending the relationship, so she is the one who deserves to suffer for it. Now he targets any couple who seems unsatisfied with their relationship.

After a few more questions, Emily decides that there’s nothing else to be found out. She begins to usher you and Spencer out but you ask her to give you a minute. You wait until they’re both out and the door is closed before you turn to Kathryn.

“I have one last question for you if you’re okay with that,” You prompt, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Okay?”

“Do you know anyone who has been getting some unwanted attention? A girl. Perhaps she’s getting gifts or she feels like she’s being followed or watched?”

You just need something. A name, or a description. You need to find this girl.

“Um, I don’t, I don’t know.” You narrow your eyes at her hesitation.

“Are you sure?”

“Well, I mean, there’s this one girl I used to be friends with in highschool. She always got notes and stuff in her locker, but she had a boyfriend, and they weren’t from him. Sometimes she got freaked out about it, but it didn’t seem like anything big, just some high school crush.”

That’s how it always starts. A tiny crush.

“Are you still in contact with this girl?”

“Not really, she and her boyfriend got married and moved away. I have no clue where they went.”

She’s gone? You grind your teeth together. Of course she’s gone. The only living connection you have to the unsub is gone.

“Do you know anyone that may still be in contact with her? Anyone that might have her number?”

You need to talk to her. You need to find out who this psycho is. He needs to be stopped before he can cause any more damage. You need to stop him.

Kathryn shakes her head and you have to refrain from groaning. Great, just great.

“Thank you for your time. And I’m sorry for your loss,” You offer shortly before going out to meet the others by the car.

You run a hand through your hair in frustration, biting your lip so hard that you taste blood. That’s normal now though, isn’t it? The permanent burn in your throat, the tightness in your chest, the flowers in your lungs. They’re not going away anytime soon. You will die eventually because of them and so will this unsub. He needs to answer for his crimes before that happens though.

“Is everything okay?” Emily approaches you when you step out the door.

You swipe at your bleeding lip and nod.

“I’m going for a walk. I’ll meet you at the station.”

The words are determined, leaving no room for arguing. You really need to walk and think. Being near Spencer doesn’t help you to do that, and you really need to figure out another way to find this guy. Your body is screaming at you to rest, but you need to do this.

Emily doesn’t say anything so you decisively turn around and start down the sidewalk. The station isn’t that far anyways, but it’s enough to clear your head.

“Wait,” Oh no. “I’m coming with you.”

No no no no no. Why? Why can’t he leave you be for just one moment?

You know there’s no way of stopping him, so you just keep walking, too aware of the footsteps coming up behind you. It’s difficult but you force your eyes to stay forward, refusing to look at him. There’s no telling what will happen if you look at him now. Your mind is all over the place and your emotions are no better. You’re frustrated, tired, and upset.

“Can we talk?” His voice is meek in a way you have never heard before.

“I can’t really stop you,” You grunt, attempting to keep a monotonous expression.

“I’m sorry.”

Your steps almost stagger.

“Really?” You stop in your tracks to face him.

Your words aren’t angry or anything, just inquisitive. You’re too tired to be mad at him. The past two days have been a living nightmare for you, and from what Emily has told you, it’s been rough for him as well. You thought you could keep it up for a few more days, but the pain has only gotten worse and the illness has progressed quicker than you expected.

“What I said was inappropriate at the time, at any time, and I was wrong and immature,” He speaks quickly, like he can’t control it.

“And hurtful and ignorant,” you cut in, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I know and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of it, I was just worried.”

You scowl softens a bit and you finally let your eyes trail up to meet his. His entire face expresses how apologetic he is, eyes wide and pleading. You sigh, giving up completely on staying mad at him. You should have known it would be useless. He has always had a place in your heart, you can’t deny that. You could never deny that.

“I know you were worried Spence,” You whisper, reaching out to grab one of his hands which lay limply by his side, “And I’m sorry I worried you, but I’m an adult. You know that. I’m an adult FBI agent. I can protect myself.”

“But you’re sick.” His eyes dart around your face, lips pursed and eyebrows drawn tightly together.

You sigh. If only he knew.

“I’m not stupid though. I know what I’m doing and I know how to take care of myself.” You look down and give his hand a squeeze before letting go, “I was at the crime scene because I knew there was something we missed, something that could lead us to the unsub. I was right too, but you dismissed me.”

This seems to catch his attention and his eyes blow wide, “What? You found something? Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I was too busy being yelled at,” You drawl, fixing him with a steady gaze that makes him shift uncomfortably.

His mouth falls open, sputtering out another apology, and you just smile at him sadly. He probably doesn’t know the true depth of the hurt he caused you. No simple apology can fix that, but it’s kind of him to try. That’s all you wanted from him.

“What, what did you find?” He finally asks, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

You press your lips together tightly, knowing the information won’t really help anymore now that you know the girl is gone. You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms as you stare at the concrete below your feet. “It won’t do much now.”

“It could sti-”

The sound of a sharp impact rings in your ears and your head jolts up just in time to see Spencer crumble. Your mouth opens, a scream stuck in your throat, but it gets cut off when something heavy slams into your temple. You fall to your hands and knees next to Spencer.

“Spence?” You try to reach out to him but lose balance and fall to your side.

“You should have gone with the other agent, (y/n) (y/l).”

Your head jolts towards the voice and you barely make out the dark, looming figure before everything falls into darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team is sent into a panic when you and Spencer turn up missing.

“Prentiss, where are Reid and (l/n)? It’s dark out, they should have been here an hour ago,” Hotch paces in the meeting room.

“I don’t know. (Y/n) said she wanted to walk back, get some fresh air, and Reid went with her.”

“Is it possible they went to the hotel?” Morgan asks.

Emily shakes her head, “No, I called and the lobbyist says he hasn’t seen them.”

“Where could they be?”

“Prentiss, go back to where you split up, take Morgan with you, and follow the direction you saw them go,” Hotch orders.

Both nod and immediately head out.

Hotch stands at the window, tapping his foot anxiously. With how fast the unsub is devolving, there’s no way of knowing if his team is safe. He just hopes that you and Reid are out there somewhere, safe and out of harm’s way.

-

You groan, head lolling back. Pain blossoms from your forehead all the way to the back of your skull, tingling down your spine. You go to rub your head to try and dull the headache only to meet resistance. You stiffen and tug again, only to be met by the same thing. Your wrists around bound.

You head snaps up, causing you to wince, but you try to gain a sense of your surroundings, even though your vision is still blurry. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, and they immediately focus on the figure slumped in front of you. Panic shoot up through your chest and into your throat.

“Spencer?” You croak, trying again to get out of your bonds, “Spencer wake up!”

He doesn’t move and all you can see is the blood seeping down his temple.

“Spencer?” You voice cracks.

“He’s alive, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

You jolt at the voice behind you, but you can’t turn to see the speaker. You struggle, flipping your head back and forth in hopes of getting a look at him.

“Where are you, you son of a-”

“Shut it or your boyfriend won’t be alive for much longer.”

You freeze, heart skipping a beat as your eyes flicker to the unconscious brunet. You can’t let him get hurt, he doesn’t deserve it. This is your fault for poking around and separating yourself from the team. It’s your fault Spencer got dragged into this.

“What do you want from us?” You stammer out.

The unsub hums behind you and you hear the shuffle of shoes against the floor, “I want you to face the consequences you deserve.”

“It’s because we were fighting right? Because we didn’t appreciate what we have.” You need to play into the way he’s thinking. He doesn’t know that you and Spencer aren’t in a relationship.

“Exactly,” you gasp as a hand grabs your hair and yanks your head back, something cold drawing along your neck, sending panicked signals through your head, “You’re smart, aren’t you agent? You have me all figured out?”

“I know you’re ill,” You whisper, “I know you’re in pain, emotionally and physically.”

“Really? You think I’m in emotional pain, huh? Now why-” He gives your hair a sharp tug and you close your eyes tightly. “-would you think that? Huh? Tell me!” His voice rises to a sharp pitch.

“Because she doesn’t love you back.” Stay calm (y/n), stay calm. You can’t show any fear.

The unsub releases your hair, letting you slump forward and take a deep breath of air.

“So you understand,” His voice is right next to your ear, soft and quiet, “You understand why you have to be punished. You have love, but you’ve thrown it away.”

“You can’t hurt me yet though, he’s not awake. You always make sure the guy watches, right? So they can suffer like you do? Feel the pain and hopelessness like you?” You fish for threads, hoping one of them will give you some time.

He needs to keep his pattern, it’ll give your team more time to find you. You’re sure they’ve noticed you’re both missing. They have to be looking for you already. You just need to buy yourself some more time.

“Right again, agent. You’re special though-” He uses the metal object, a knife you assume, to brush some of your hair aside, “-you understand me.”

You lip quivers when you feel him step closer and the blunt side of the knife digs into your neck.

“What do you say, agent? Why don’t we have a nice long chat until your partner wakes up? You can tell me all about this profile you’ve made for me.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod. Talking’s good. You can talk. It buys you time.

-

“We found (y/n)’s bag on the sidewalk. They were definitely taken, but it was hasty, unplanned.” Emily rushes into the precinct, bag in hand.

“What would cause him to do this? What made him snap?” Hotch asks.

“I don’t know, I was hoping I could find something in here.”

She dumps your bag out onto the table and the rest of the team surrounds it, sifting through the cluttered mess. You kept everything in your bag, Emily knew that, so she’s hoping there is some clue here. She pushes everything aside that looks unimportant until her hands land on a plastic bag. She pulls it up immediately and her heart drops when she sees what’s inside.

“Guys, we need to find them, quick.”

-

“So agent, what do you think I’m like?”

You take in a quiet ragged breath, “You’re in your mid twenties, you’ve faced rejection multiple times in your life.”

The knife traces up your neck and along your jaw. “And why do you think that?”

“It’s an educated guess,” you say, ”You only attack couples, meaning you likely resent them. You torture the women because you’ve been rejected by either many of them, or maybe just a specific one, huh? You tried time and time again, but each time, she rejected you, right?”

“My, my, you are smart.” The knife falls away from you face to rest on your collarbone again. “Too bad you weren’t smart enough to find me. And neither is your team.”

“They’ll find you soon,” You mutter, “we always catch the bad guys.”

“You’ll be dead before that happens.”

-

“The unsub likely has hanahaki disease. That’s why he’s lashing out like this. He’s probably close to dying. We need to find them, quick”

-

“Look who’s awake!”

Your eyes snap to Spencer who’s shifting in his seat. He groans, arms straining as he pulls at his own bonds. The unsub presses the knife tightly to your throat so you resist the urge to cry out to him as his eyes flicker open, blurry and unfocused.

“Good morning sleepy head!” You flinch as the unsub shouts behind you.

Spencer shifts again and lifts his head, eyes widening when he sees the situation you’re both in.

“Say hi to your sweetheart, agent (l/n),” the unsub directs, whispering in your ear.

“He- Hey Spence,” you murmur softly, offering the confused man a watery smile.

“(Y/n), wha- where are we?”

“You, Agent Reid, are where you deserve to be. After everything you did to this poor girl, did you really think you’d get away with it?”

“What?”

“You didn’t appreciate this sweet little thing-” Your breath speeds up when the knife again moves to trace along your cheek, “-and for that, you’ll watch her die.”

“Wait, no, what, what are you talking about? I didn’t do anything, we’re not even toge-“

He’s cut off by the cry that leaves your lips when the knife plunges into your arm.

“Wait, stop! She didn’t do anything!” Spencer struggles against his bonds.

“You didn’t seem to care about that when you screamed at her in that hotel, so why now?” The unsub laughs and the knife digs further into your arm as he twists it, drawing another cry from your lips.

“Spencer, you can’t,” you whimper, “you can’t give -give him a reaction. Please.”

“Did you hear that lover boy? She wants you to go stone-faced on me,” The unsub cackles, “Do you really think that’ll help, Sweetheart?”

You try to snap back at him, but you choke on your words when the knife draws out of your flesh. Instead, another whimper comes out and you try to pull away from the unsub even though you can’t see him.

You turn your eyes back to Spencer, trying to meet his through the tears that cloud your vision, “It’ll be okay, Spence, it’ll be okay. They’ll find us, everything will be okay.”

Spencer shakes his head, his own eyes looking glassy. You barely muster a comforting smile before the knife comes down to trace a deep gash into your shoulder.

He needs to stay strong because you know you can’t. All you need to do is hold onto life until they find you and save Spencer. You don’t mind dying as long as he lives. He needs to live.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets come out that were never meant to.

“I am so sorry (y/n),” Spencer murmurs, his voice choked from shouting. You told him to stop but he wouldn’t.

“I told you it’s not your fault,” you breathe, slumped back into the chair.

You’re dizzy from the blood loss and your throat hurts from screaming. You have no clue what time it is now, but it feels like it’s been hours.

“If I hadn’t yelled at you, there’s a chance this wouldn’t have happened,” he argues and you almost want to laugh.

“I’m the one who went out to the scene by myself Spence, don’t you dare try to blame this on yourself.” You force yourself to sit up, a painful cough splitting from your throat. “Promise me you won’t blame yourself.”

“Aww, isn’t that sweet?” You flinch, realizing the unsub is back, his steps clicking behind you. “The little bird doesn’t want you to feel bad, even though you’re the reason she’s dying.”

“Shut up.” You snap, putting as much force into your words as you can, “Don’t listen to him, Spence.”

“Who else is there to blame though?”

“Me,” you growl out, teeth bared in a grimace, “This is all completely my fault, so don’t you dare try to get him to blame himself!”

You will not let this rest on his conscious! He doesn’t deserve that much weight on his shoulders for the rest of his life. Your not worth it.

“She cares so much about you. How sweet.”

“Please, just, just let him go,” you break a bit, hoping to somehow get Spencer out of here, “You can torture and kill me, but please, let him leave.”

“But sweetness,” he tilts your head back with the knife, “I was going to do that anyways. Plus, watching your love’s reaction is part of the fun.”

“You don’t understand…”

“What? What don’t I understand?” He sneers in your ear.

“He didn’t do-“

“Anything? Why do you insist on defending him?! He hurt you didn’t he?! He made you cry, he broke your heart. Didn’t he? Didn’t he?!”

“No!”

“Liar!”

The knife slams into your thigh, dragging a scream from your ragged throat.

“Stop it!”

No Spencer.

“What? Isn’t this what you wanted? You obviously wanted to hurt her! That’s why you shouted at her, demeaned her! This is all your doing!”

The unsub finally comes out from behind you, giving you a good look for the first time. He’s skinny, too skinny, and pale. Your eyes are drawn to the morbid pop of purple covering parts of his face. The petals stick to his sickly, sweaty skin, sprawling in a bloody design over his face. Thick drops of crimson drip down his chin and ooze out between his bared teeth You were right about him being deep in the illness. It has already begun to destroy him. You watch anxiously as he tumbles closer to Spencer, who is attempting to put on a brave face, but you see the fear deep in his eyes.

“If you didn’t want this to happen, you shouldn’t have treated your wonderful love like filth!” He raises the knife higher, gesturing like he’s about to strike, “You should have at least acted like you loved her!!” The knife flashes out towards Spencer.

“He doesn’t!”

The words are out of your mouth before you can think. All that runs through your mind is getting his attention off of Spencer and onto you. You can’t let him hurt the man you love, even if he doesn’t love you back.

The unsub freezes before turning to you sharply, eyes crazed and wild, “What was that?”

“He doesn’t love me because he’s just a friend,” You heave out, the words burning your throat, “He is only a friend, just a friend.”

This seems to throw him for a loop. The knife drops to his side as he kneels down in front of you, head tilted and eyes narrowed.

“Why should I believe you?”

Panic slowly builds as you try to think of a way to prove it. Your mind races and your chest begins to heave. There has to be something you can say or do. Something! It only gets worse when the crazed man seems to grow bored of waiting and starts to turn back around to face Spencer. Without realizing, you work yourself up to the point where you can’t breathe. A familiar pain spreads through you and your body begins to curl into itself, convulsing as coughs begin to tear their way from your throat. This brings the man's attention back to you, his eyebrows twerked curiously.

Spencer's soft, pleading voice breaks through your fit, “She’s sick, please she needs help.”

You shake your head rapidly as your body shakes with more violent coughs. The unsub watches on perplexed.

After several seconds, you feel the burning, prickling pain claw up into your throat until you feel the silky texture hit your tongue. You gag, letting the small, spit-soaked rose fall into you lap. You spit out the blood that fills your mouth after, grinning for once at the gruesome site in front of you.

“There, does that prove it?” You wheeze shakily, lifting your watery eyes to glare at the man.

His face is a perfectly blank mask now, his eyes trained on the bloody petals.

“I'm sick, just like you,” you snarl at him in a quiet voice.

“And it’s him, isn’t it?” You purse your lips but manage a nod, “You poor soul. To have something so close yet so out of reach. And he doesn’t even know, does he?”

“Know what?”

Your stare at the unsub as a sickening smile crawls over his lips. You shake your head viciously, eyes blowing wide with panic.

“Why, Doctor Reid, I was just saying that you have no clue how much suffering you’ve already put this girl through.”

No no no no.

“What are you talking about?”

The unsub licks his bloodstained lips as he looks at Spencer over his shoulder saying, “Why don’t you see for yourself,” before stepping out of the way.

You close your eyes, not willing to see the look of confusion and horror that spreads over Spencer’s face. It’s an ugly sight, the blood dripping from your lips and the mangled flower on your leg. He was never supposed to know.

“(Y/n)…?”

“No wonder she was so willing to give herself up for you.” The unsub crosses the room to stand behind Spencer, placing his hands on the brunet’s shoulders. “She loves you so deeply, even though she knows you feel nothing for her.”

“(Y/n)?” Your name rolls of his lips again, quiet and questioning.

“It’s true,” you murmur, eyes still closed.

“She sick just like me. The illness of unrequited love. Your precious little (y/n) is dying because of you. Because you don’t return her feelings. So it _is_ actually all your fault.” He squeezes Spencer’s shoulders, sickening smile widening.

“No,” you croak and open your eyes to look at Spencer, desperately wishing for him to believe you, “don’t listen to him, Spence.”

“But it’s true-“ The unsub walks back behind your chair and his fingers curl around your jaw as he jerks your head up uncomfortably, “-so why do you still protect him, little bird? He’s killing you.”

You muster a weak glare as you look up at him, “No matter how much pain I go through, I will always love him. Nothing you say will change that. I will _never_ be like you.”

The unsub looks down at you as if he’s disappointed, clicking his tongue which sends a few drops of blood onto your face, “That’s a shame.”

You grimace.

“I really thought you were smarter than this agent. But your a weak coward, just like her,” he snarls, features twisting with sudden anger, “She ran away with a man who couldn’t ever love her like I do! She was scared of how strongly I felt. And now here you are, ready to roll over and die just to keep your emotions for this-“ he shifts his glare to Spencer, “-this man.”

“It’s better than turning into a psychopathic serial killer who can’t handle seeing other people enjoy what he’ll never get,” you spit up at him.

“(Y/n)…” You ignore Spencer warning tone.

“You’re just a lonely, sad, pathetic man who didn’t get the girl.”

“Why you-“ The unsub is practically shaking as he crosses in front of you, hands getting a white-knuckled grip on the arms of the chair you’re strapped to, “-you little- You’re calling me pathetic?! You think you’re better than me?!”

“I do, actually,” you bark back at him, not backing down since you discovered this new burst of confidence, “I’m not the one on the brink of death.”

“Oh really?” The man grabs the collar of your shirt and yanks you forward, painfully reopening the wounds on your stomach and shoulders, “Why don’t we do something about that then, hm?”

Your eyes widen as the knife flashes in your peripherals before you feel a sharp, overwhelming pain burn through your abdomen. It sends flames of agony up your spine and drags a silent cry from your lips.

“(Y/n)!”

Your head drops down, vision fraying when you see the knife protruding from your stomach. Your arms strain against your bonds, instinctively reaching to pull it out. Your chest begins to heave and your hands tremble as you look back up at the man who’s grinning cruelly down at you.

“You were going to die anyways, right?” His voice softens, anger no longer coating his visible features.

Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth and you can’t find a single word to spit back at him. Every move you make, every breath you take, sends searing pain through your abdomen and scatters the thoughts in your head.

“I’m sorry it had to end so quickly,” You can’t find the strength to move away when the unsub uncharacteristically cups your cheek, “And I’m sorry he couldn’t love you the way you deserve. I’m honestly helping you if you think about it. Now you don’t have to go through that pain anymore.”

You look into his eyes, which now shine with sympathy that he has no right to feel. You wish you could tell him so, but all that comes out is a low, pained whine.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon.” He pats your cheek before slowly turning around to Spencer, “I hope you’re happy.”

With those final words, the man steps out of the little room, leaving you to die and Spencer to watch.

“(Y/n)?”

You try to look at him, but everything is getting blurry. It takes a moment for your eyes to fully focus on his face, and it’s only then that you notice how his eyes are gleaming with tears. Your lips twist down into a soft frown and you cringe at the pain when you try to sit up straight in your chair, knife still stuck in your abdomen.

You lick your dry lips, voice raspy when you say, “It’s okay Spence, everything will be okay.” Your eyes droop, and you slump back forward.

“Hold on, (y/n). They’ll find us, you need to hold on just a little longer,” His voice cracks, and you know he doesn’t believe those words.

“I’m sure they will.” You can’t help the sad smile that slips on your face as you close your eyes fully, exhaustion seeping through you.

“(Y/n)? (Y/n), you need to stay awake. Look at me!”

You jolt, eyes opening a sliver to look at the man you love. The tears have fallen, and he's straining helplessly against his bindings. His eyes connect with yours, pleading and desperate. Guilt swirls in with the pain at the thought that you’ll be leaving him.

“I love you, Spencer,” You murmur, words sticking in your throat.

“Please don’t leave me, (Y/n), please, you just need to hold on.” You heart breaks at how broken he sounds. You never wanted Spencer to go through pain like this, it was your goal to protect him however you could. You guess you can’t do that anymore.

“Don’t blame yourself, okay Spence?” You repeat your words from earlier, “For me, please. I love you, so much. Just please…don’t…”

Your words slur together, and you vision darkens along the edges. Spencer is talking, shouting, but you can’t hear him. It should scare you, but it doesn’t. You thought it would be terrifying and painful, but you just feel cold and tired now, and focusing sends waves of nausea through you. The darkness seeps further into your vision. You just need to get it out one last time though. You need to tell him one last time.

“I love you, Spencer Reid.”

Then everything fades to black.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You thought things were going to be different.

Everything is dark. There is nothing, just the darkness that swallows you whole. You feel heavy, like every inch of your body is being weighed down, like you’re in a sea of tar that clings to you, embraces you. At the same time, it feels like your floating, higher than every cloud in the sky. Except there are no clouds, no sky, no sun. It's not how you thought it would be. It’s just dark...and cold...and loud?

Beep...Beep...Beep

The annoying sound slowly becomes blaringly obvious, pounding in your head. You shift and squint your eyes open, surprised to now notice shadows creeping in the darkness. It shocks you enough to bring a sense of real consciousness to you. Your eyes sluggishly creep around the space. The lights are off, but even so, you can see it’s a hospital room. The sound is coming from your heart monitor, going at a constant, calm rate. Your eyebrows draw together. You don’t remember going to the hospital? How did you get here?

You try to move, to sit up, but feel something cold tighten around your hand. You hesitate, the machine picks up slightly, and look down to find none other than Spencer Reid. Your eyes soften at the site and your heart calms. He’s sitting in a chair, leaning against your bed with his head resting on his folded arms. One of his hands is resting on yours, fingers curled under your palm. He looks so sweet, so young with his hair messily spread over his face and lips parted with soft breaths.

When you try to move, to gain his attention, you wince. Pain blooms all over your body, but is sharp in your abdomen.

That’s when it all rushes back. Being kidnapped by the unsub, being tortured in front of Spencer, being stabbed. You thought you died. So how did you get here?

With a heavy sigh, you look back down at Spencer who is still asleep. You carefully maneuver yourself so you can gently brush the hair out of his face so you can actually look at him. It warms your heart to see him look so peaceful but also pains you to see the bruise that borders his temple. Images of his distressed face flicker through your mind, but you shove them aside. Everything is okay now. You don’t know how, but everything is okay.

You subconsciously trace your thumb over Spencer’s cheek, grounding yourself in the present. He’s always been your anchor, ever since you became friends.

His eyelashes flutter before his eyes slowly open, unfocused for a few moments before he looks at you. Then he shoots up, making you flinch back at the suddenness. He blinks at your owlishly, lips parted slightly in shock.

“(Y/n)? You’re awake.”

You nod, looking at him cautiously. Whatever is coming up, you’re worried about how he’ll react. There’s no avoiding what happened.

“How are you feeling? Are you in pain? Should I call the doctor?”

“No,” You cough, voice rough from lack of use so you try again, “No, I’m okay.”

He seems to relax at that, shoulders slumping. It’s only then that you see how tired he looks. Dark circles lie under his eyes and his clothes are rumpled, like he’s been here for hours. How long have you been unconscious?

“What happened, Spence?”

“The team came. Emily realized that the unsub had… They arrived right after you lost consciousness. You were rushed to the ER, and they performed a blood transfusion and surgery to close your wounds. Your heart stopped twice, (y/n), twice. You almost died.” His voice is strained, and you see the way his eyes gleam with moisture. He harshly rubs at them, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“Hey, hey,” You rush to comfort him, pulling his hands away so you can gently cradle his jaw in your palm and brush away the single tear that falls from his eyes, “I’m okay, everything’s okay now. I’m alive.” You take one of his hands and press it to your chest where he can feel your steady heartbeat, “See? I’m okay.”

He takes a moment, staring at where your small hand covers his larger one. He takes a breath and closes his eyes, leaning into your touch.

“Why did you do it?”

The question catches you off guard. You tilt your head and tighten your grip on his hand.

“You know why…”

His eyes open to meet yours, soft and confused. You brush your thumb over his brow to smooth the wrinkle that forms between them. Everything is quiet for a few moments before his lips part again.

“Why do you love me?” The words are soft-spoken, like a child who is scared of what the answer will be, and his eyes can no longer meet yours.

You sigh, thumb now distractedly running across his sharp cheekbone as you try to think of an answer. Many flicker through your head, the problem is just choosing a single one.

“You are beautiful, Spencer,” you start, “both inside and out. You care about every single person on the team and about all the people we help. You have such a pure heart, and you try to see the best in everyone. And that’s just the start. There are so many reasons why I love you. And it’s okay that you don’t love me back. I’m okay with that. I’m okay with just being able to love you. These emotions I feel will always outweigh any pain they bring me. No matter what, I am never going to stop loving you.”

You don’t realize you’ve started crying as well until his hand slips from under yours to wipe them away. Another moment of silence envelopes you as you look at each other. You can’t help but bask in his undivided attention, humming softly when his hand wraps back around yours.

“You were willing to die for me.” It’s not a question but you nod anyways. “Even though I was putting you through so much pain.”

“All I’ve ever wanted is for you to live and be happy, even if I’m not around to see it,” You murmur.

This seems to worry Spencer even more. He brings your hand down so he can hold it with both his hands, his head bowing so his chin is practically tucked to his chest.

“You’ve always been so selfless.” His words come out hushed, a whisper so quiet that you can barely hear him, “How did I not notice? I even said all those things to you. I’m so sorry, (y/n), for everything. I think I understand now, though.”

Your expression is encompassed with confusion as you watch him. He licks his lips nervously, fidgeting with your fingers.

“The moment you lost consciousness, I felt like everything just stopped. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t do anything. You were just gone and I lost it. All I could think about was how you did it all for me. You were willing to die...for me.” His voice cracks at the end, pitching up. “I can’t believe I never even realized how much you mean to me.”

“What are you saying, Spence?” You ask softly.

His eyes flicker up to you, earnest and wide, “I think...I think I love you, (y/n), and I just never realized it.”

You breath hitches in your lungs and it feels like something rushes through you. A sense of peace and clarity fills your mind and breathing becomes easier, like whatever was blocking your airway was miraculously cleared away. You feel lighter.

“You love me?” You need to hear it again, one more time.

“I think I do,” he grabs both of your hands in his, touch so soft like he’s scared of hurting you, “You’ve helped me through so many hard times, and you’re always so kind. I feel...I feel at peace when you’re around, but it’s different from Emily and Derek. That can only mean one thing really. I love you, (y/n) (y/l/n).”

You can’t stop the giggle that bubbles in your chest or the wide grin that spreads across your lips. Spencer smiles at the sound, the small, genuine smile you fell in love with.

You tug him closer to you, forcing him out of his seat so you can wrap your arms around his waist. He chuckles and wraps an arm around shoulders gently, chin resting on top of your hair.

“I’ve been waiting to hear you say those words forever!” Your hands twist into the back of his shirt, face buried in his chest to hide the blush coating your cheeks.

“I’m sorry you had to wait.”

“It’s okay, because you’re here now, and that’s what matters.” You pull away from him slightly, still grinning.

You can’t get over the way he’s looking at you. Those beautiful honey-brown eyes are focused solely on you, melting your heart with their warmth. You never thought you’d be the center of such a loving gaze, but here you are. And it fills you with overflowing joy.

You pull Spencer a little closer to press a quick kiss to his cheek, which makes his ears and neck immediately flush a pink hue. You bury your face back into his chest, giggling even harder. It’s like you’re on a high, and you never want to come down.

“You need to rest,” Spencer chides after a few more minutes of just enjoying being near each other. There is no more worry now, because everything is going to be okay.

“Only if you climb up here with me,” you reply cheekily, “That chair can’t be too comfy.”

He doesn’t seem to want to argue, so you shift to the side of the bed so he can climb in next to you. It’s a bit of a squeeze, but you feel safe with him so close. It finally feels like you can rest, like everyone’s been telling you to do. And you do. You close your eyes and snuggle into his warmth, falling asleep to the soft thrumming of his heartbeat.


	10. Epilogue

You stand in front of a mirror, eyes blank as you take in your appearance. Anyone else would say you look beautiful. You’re wearing a cute (f/c) dress and your hair is all done up how you like it. You look radiant! But all you can see is ugly, garish scars that twist over your arms and shoulders.

You sigh and set your shoulders, glaring at the mirror. You can’t let it affect you. These scars are proof of your strength. You made it through, you’re alive. You should be proud of that! Yet, one glance makes you deflate again, breath rushing out of you as images of the trauma streak through your mind. Some days they are easy to dismiss and ignore, but other days they weigh down your mind and body like an anchor. You were hoping today wouldn’t be one of those days. It’s your one month anniversary with Spencer and he was taking you out for a nice dinner.

To be honest, you had been worried that he would lose interest a few weeks after the whole ordeal. You’ve heard of people becoming emotionally bonded because of trauma and it typically fades over time. All those worries had been for nothing though. Every single day, Spencer proves his love for you, whether it be through small deeds or sometimes even big gestures. It has been like a dream and you never want to wake up.

“You look beautiful.”

You jump in surprise at the voice that calls out quietly from across the room. Your body spins around, eyes landing on none other that your amazing boyfriend. You must have been so lost in thought that you didn’t hear him come in through the door.

“You think so?” You ask once you get over the shock, a bashful smile overtaking your face.

Spencer nods and slowly walks up to you, which gives you ample time to check out his outfit for the night. He’s wearing a dark suit vest that shows off his slim build, and a dark purple button up beneath it, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You reach up and straighten his black tie once he reaches you.

“You look incredibly dashing as well. So handsome,” You hum softly while smoothing out the vest.

Spencer watches you quietly, noting how you fiddle with his clothes in almost a nervous manner. He’s never had to use his skills in behavioral analysis on you. You’ve always been an open book that anyone could read. You wear your heart on your sleeve and that’s one of the many things he adores about you. He can tell you’re anxious though, which in turn worries him. He gently grabs your wrists, hands sliding up to capture yours and hold them to his chest.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, thumb tracing over your knuckles to calm you.

You take in a deep breath and your eyes fall to the floor. Of course he would notice. You can’t hide anything from him, even if you tried. You turn back to the mirror, releasing the breath in a heavy sigh.

“Not really, I guess. It’s all theses scars,” you mutter like a defeated child as you trace a particularly vivid one on your forearm.

Your eyes meet his in the mirror. His honey orbs are locked on you, attentive and warm, brimming with emotions. Most people wouldn’t notice. All they would see is his passive expression and calm stature, but not you. You see the soft sympathy and concern in his expression, the slight pinch of his brow and the tension in his shoulders.

“Do they bother you?”

You nod. “It feels like I’ll never be able to forget about what happened. They’re just a permanent reminder. I don’t know. They just make me feel so...awful.”

Spencer’s mouth sets in a firm line. He steps forward, arms wrapping protectively around your waist. His lips press hesitantly against the raised skin on the back of your shoulder, causing your eyes to flutter shut. He’s always so gentle, so careful, like you’re made of glass. It doesn’t make you feel weak though. It makes you feel loved, cherished, protected. You never expected him to be this affectionate, but it’s a thoroughly pleasant surprise.

“You know, with the right treatment, scars fade over time.” He pulls you closer to himself, chin resting on you shoulder. “They become paler and less noticeable as they heal. The same goes for psychological scars. They don’t last forever. It will take time, but eventually you will be able to move past what happened and I’ll always be here to help you.”

His words warm your heart and send relief flowing over your entire being. You spin on your heels and wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest. You both stay like that for a while, quiet and content. He understands your gratitude without you having to speak a single word, that’s how it is. You both just get each other, like puzzle pieces that click together perfectly.

The moment breaks when Spencer seems to remember something. He excuses himself for a moment and rushes out the door. You giggle at his speedy pace. For such a genius, he can be so forgetful sometimes.

You look at your reflection with a new perception now, admiring how nicely you cleaned up. Spencer has always been able to make you feel beautiful. He didn’t really say anything about your looks, but you know his little speech was to boost your self-confidence. It definitely worked. You can feel the dark clouds receding from your mind, leaving you feeling lighter that ever before. Everything heals with time, you just need to have patience. No matter what happens, you can get through it with him by your side. 

Spencer rushes back into the room right as you finish up. You raise an eyebrow at the grin plastered on his face. What is he up to? His hands are tucked behind his back and he rocks nervously on his heels.

“What do you have there?” You ask suspiciously, trying to catch a glimpse of what he’s holding behind his back, but he tilts his body so you can’t see.

“It’s just a little gift,” he says loftily, grin turning into a small, bashful smile.

With that, he pulls his hand in front of him to reveal a small bouquet of white flowers. You expect to feel anxiety rush through you at the sight of the pure petals, your body tensing up to prepare for it, but nothing comes. You just felt...happily surprised.

“These are gerbera jamesonii, Gerbera daisies. They were originally discovered in 1884 in South Africa, but were bred in Europe, and they symbolize symplicity, purity, and love. I thought...I thought it might be nice to make some good memories with them. They’re so beautiful after all, like you, and-”

“Spencer,” You cut him off with a dopey grin, even with the tears collecting in your eyes, “Gosh…”

“What?” His face lights up with alarm, grin dropping immediately, “You don’t like them, do you? I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Morgan.”

“No no no,” You giggle, wiping at your eyes. You step closer to him, fearlessly taking the flowers from his hands and placing them on your dresser before you wrap him up in a hug, chin tilted up too look at his concerned face, “I love them. They’re perfect. You’re perfect.”

Spencer seems to breathe a sigh of relief and a tentative smile spreads over his face again as he wraps his long arms around you in return, “Good, I was worried that you wouldn’t, but Morgan insisted it was a good idea. I had to ask around so many flower shops to find just the right ones. They had to be perfect for you,” he rambles on and on, and you smother your content smile in his chest.

How did you become so lucky as to have this amazing man love you back? He’s so caring and thoughtful. He always knows what to say and what to do. Even with the flowers. You thought you would hate flowers for the rest of your life after what happens, but just the sight of him holding them out to you filled your chest with warmth. You can’t believe how lucky you are.

“I love you Doctor Spencer Reid,” You murmur, interrupting his ramblings.

Spencer blinks down at you with those wide, beautiful eyes that brim with affection. You push up onto the tips of your toes to press a soft, chaste kiss to his lips before taking his hand pulling him out of the room.

“Now come on, let’s go handsome! The reservations won’t wait!”

A chuckle vibrates through his chest and he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side as you step into the chilly evening. You can’t help but snuggle into him, sighing contentedly.

You never thought it could happen to you. It always happened to others, but not you. No one was crazy enough to fall in love with you.

Except the beautiful Doctor Spencer Reid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading! I hope you enjoyed my story! Feel free to drop a comment, maybe a suggestion for a new story! Have a lovely day!


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